The waiting area of the Heaven Luo City Spirit Awakening Hall smelled of sterile disinfectant, cheap floor wax, and the nervous sweat of three hundred six-year-olds.
Ye Chen sat in a molded plastic chair in the back row, his legs swinging idly. Unlike the other children who were vibrating with a mixture of terror and excitement, clutching their parents' hands or whispering about becoming Mecha Pilots, Ye Chen was quiet. His dark eyes scanned the room with a calm, almost bored precision that looked entirely out of place on a child's face.
He wasn't bored, though. He was calculating.
'Six years,' he thought, shifting his gaze to the massive holographic screens displaying propaganda for the Federation's latest interstellar colonization efforts. 'Six years since I woke up in this high-tech cultivation fever dream.'
Ye Chen was a transmigrator. For the past six years, while his peers were learning to walk and talk, he had lived with the consciousness of an adult, quietly absorbing every scrap of information he could find on the news feeds to bridge the gap between the ancient lore he knew and the reality he faced. In his past life, he was just a guy. A normal, salaried employee who paid his taxes, enjoyed reading web novels, and had a particular fondness for the Soul Land (Douluo Dalu) series. He had watched the first anime religiously, loved the lore, and even dipped into the chaotic world of fanfictions and forum arguments about the sequels.
He hadn't read the novels for Soul Land 2 or 3, but he knew the spoilers. He knew about the decline of Spirit Beasts. He knew about the Abyssal Plane wars. He knew the general tragic trajectory of the world. And now, he was in Soul Land 4: Ultimate Douluo.
'Interstellar travel. Battle Armor. Mechas. And a protagonist who is basically a genetic lottery winner,' Ye Chen mused, his eyes drifting to a boy sitting a few rows ahead.
The boy was undeniably pretty. Even at six years old, Lan Xuanyu had skin like porcelain and large, expressive eyes that seemed to hold a strange depth. He sat between his parents—Lan Xiao and Nan Cheng—looking well-behaved and slightly anxious.
Ye Chen knew exactly who that was. That was the main character. The son of the Dragon King and the Silver Dragon King. The boy who would eventually become the Dragon God. A walking, breathing cheat code.
Ye Chen looked down at his own small, calloused hands.
He wasn't a cheat code. He was Ye Chen. His parents in this life were ordinary civilians. His father worked in logistics for a small transport company, and his mother was a clerk. No hidden Douluo titles in his lineage. No dormant bloodlines. Just a normal guy in a world where "normal" meant you were collateral damage when a high-ranking Spirit Master decided to have a bad day.
'I don't need to be a god,' Ye Chen told himself, repeating the mantra he had refined over the last six years. 'I just need to survive. I appreciate Tang San's story, but I'm not him. I don't have Xuantian Kung technique. I don't have Purple Demon Eyes. I have common sense and spoilers. That has to be enough.'
"Group 14, proceed to the Awakening Chamber!" a staff member in the uniform of the Spirit Pagoda called out.
Ye Chen stood up. He was in Group 14. So was Lan Xuanyu.
As the children shuffled into a line, Ye Chen positioned himself near the back. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see if reality matched the lore.
The Awakening Chamber was impressive. It was a circular room dominated by intricate metal patterns on the floor—spirit guide arrays—and hummed with the low thrum of soul technology. In the center stood a Spirit Master, a man with a bored expression and a datapad.
"Step forward when called. Stand in the center. Don't move," the Master recited the standard script.
The awakenings began.
"Tool Spirit: Hoe. No Spirit Power. Next."
"Beast Spirit: Wind Baboon. Spirit Power Rank 2. Next."
"Tool Spirit: Long Knife. Spirit Power Rank 4. Not bad, you can register for an academy."
It was a lottery. Most kids left crying. A few left beaming.
Then, the name was called.
"Lan Xuanyu."
Ye Chen leaned slightly to the side to get a better view. He watched the protagonist step into the circle. He watched the lights flicker. He watched as two distinct strands of energy—one gold, one silver—spiraled around the boy before merging into... nothing.
Or rather, into two strands of Blue Silver Grass.
The disappointment in the room was palpable. The Spirit Master scoffed. "Blue Silver Grass? A standard trash spirit. What a waste of that phenomenon."
Ye Chen suppressed a snort. 'If only they knew,' he thought. 'Gold Dragon King in one hand, Silver Dragon King in the other. It's the ultimate camouflage.'
Then came the Spirit Power test. Lan Xuanyu touched the crystal. A blinding light filled the room.
"Full Spirit Power?!" The Spirit Master's jaw dropped.
The room erupted into whispers. A trash spirit with innate Full Spirit Power? It was unheard of. It was a contradiction.
As Lan Xuanyu was ushered away, looking confused but relieved by his parents' comfort, Ye Chen analyzed the situation. 'Full Spirit Power means he's a magnet for trouble. High potential, high risk. Being his friend is dangerous. Being his enemy is suicide. The sweet spot is somewhere in the middle. A leech. A helpful, unnoticed leech.'
"Ye Chen."
The name snapped him back to reality.
Ye Chen walked into the circle. He didn't feel fear, but he felt a heavy weight in his stomach. This was the moment that decided whether he would be a pilot or a passenger in this life.
'Please,' he thought, closing his eyes as the warm energy of the formation enveloped him. 'I don't need a God Spirit. Just give me something workable. Something I can plan with.'
The warmth surged through his limbs, gathering in his right hand. It felt dense. Heavy. Cold.
It wasn't the wild, explosive heat of a fire element. It wasn't the fluid grace of water. It felt like... stability.
Ye Chen opened his eyes.
Grasped in his right hand was a sword.
It was about three feet long, double-edged, with a simple crossguard. The blade was a dull, matte silver, lacking the shine of polished steel. It had no intricate engravings, no glowing runes, no aura of holy light or demonic energy.
It looked like a prop from a low-budget historical drama.
"Tool Spirit: Silver Sword," the Spirit Master announced, checking his sensors. He frowned. "No elemental readings. No energy fluctuations. Just... a sword."
Ye Chen stared at the weapon. He gave it a small experimental swing. It felt balanced. It felt right. But the Spirit Master was correct—it felt inert. It was just a sharp bar of metal manifested from his soul.
"Go to the testing pillar," the Master gestured to a thick metal column used to gauge attack power. "Let's see if it has any hidden properties. Strike it."
Ye Chen approached the pillar. It was made of standard alloy, designed to take beatings from novice Spirit Masters.
'Okay,' Ye Chen thought, gripping the hilt with both hands. 'Let's see what you can do.'
He didn't use any fancy technique—he didn't know any. He just swung the sword with all the strength his six-year-old body could muster.
CLANG!
The sound was harsh and jarring. The blade bounced off the alloy pillar violently.
A shockwave of vibration traveled up the sword and into Ye Chen's arms, stinging his palms. The sword hummed with a distressed, high-pitched ring.
"Weak," the Spirit Master muttered, reaching for his datapad to mark a fail. "Zero penetration. No force amplification."
But Ye Chen didn't hear him.
He was frozen, staring at the blade.
The moment the vibration hit his hands, something shifted deep within his soul. It wasn't a voice. It wasn't a blue text box appearing in his retina. It was a sensation.
It felt like thirst.
When the sword struck the pillar, the pillar was harder than the sword. The vibration—the rejection of the blade—was perceived by his Martial Spirit not as failure, but as motivation.
The sword was indignant. It felt a primal, metallic urge: 'That thing is harder than me. I want that.'
Ye Chen didn't have time to process the thought, let alone issue a command.
The Imbibe ability wasn't a skill he activated; it was a law of his spirit. The moment the sword touched a superior structure, the transfer began automatically.
The distressed humming of the blade changed pitch. It stopped vibrating outward and seemed to pull the vibration inward. Ye Chen watched, eyes widening slightly, as the dull, matte gray of his blade rippled.
For a split second, the texture of the blade changed. The grainy, iron-like surface smoothed out. The color deepened, taking on the slightly bluish-tint of the testing pillar's alloy.
It wasn't a magical transformation. It felt like the sword had learned a lesson instantly. 'You are too soft. Be like the pillar.'
"Hey, kid, move along. We have others waiting," the Spirit Master said, impatient.
"One more," Ye Chen said. His voice was quiet but firm.
The Spirit Master sighed. "Kid, a standard iron sword won't cut alloy, no matter how much you put your strength. It's physics. Don't embarrass yourself."
Ye Chen didn't argue. He adjusted his grip. The sword felt different now. Slightly heavier. Denser. The balance point had shifted a millimeter toward the tip.
He swung again. Same arc. Same strength.
SHIIIK.
There was no clang.
The sound was a soft, wet hiss, like a knife slicing through stiff cardboard.
The blade bit into the metal pillar, sinking about two inches deep before stopping. It didn't bounce. It didn't vibrate. It simply occupied the space where the metal used to be.
The Spirit Master stopped typing. He looked at the pillar, then at the boy, then back at the pillar.
"What..." The Master walked over, running a finger near the cut. "Did you channel Spirit Power? Was that a Sword Qi release?"
"No, sir," Ye Chen said, pulling the sword out. It slid out smoothly, no friction. "I just... hit it harder."
The Master looked at him with suspicion. He grabbed Ye Chen's wrist and dragged him to the crystal ball. "Check your rank."
Ye Chen placed his hand on the crystal.
Rank 7.
"Rank 7," the Master muttered. "High innate power. That explains the physical strength, I guess. But to cut alloy with a junk spirit..." He shook his head. "Whatever. Maybe the pillar is getting old."
He scribbled on the form. Ye Chen. Spirit: Silver Sword. Rank 7. Evaluation: Standard Weapon Spirit with decent physical parameters.
"You qualify for the basic Spirit Master academy," the Master said, handing him the paper. "But don't get arrogant. Without an elemental attribute or a special effect, a sword is just a sharpened stick in the face of a Mecha. Next!"
Ye Chen took the paper and walked away.
He kept his head down, hiding the gleam in his eyes.
He could still feel the sensation in his right hand, even after the spirit had faded. It was a feeling of satisfaction. A full belly.
His sword hadn't just cut the pillar. It had become the pillar.
'Imbibe,' the word floated into his mind. It wasn't a skill name given by a system; it was just the best word to describe the feeling. His sword drank the properties of things it touched.
'But only if it makes it stronger,' Ye Chen realized, recalling the sensation of the first impact. 'The vibration... the bounce... it rejected the flexibility. It rejected the weakness. It only took the hardness. And it did it all on its own.'
He glanced back at the queue. Lan Xuanyu was gone.
Ye Chen clutched the registration form to his chest. A small, pragmatic smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He was a normal guy. He didn't have a Dragon God bloodline. But he had a sword that was a perfectionist. And in a world full of rare metals, dragon scales, and energy weapons, a sword that could copy anything superior to itself...
That was a plan.
The Ye family apartment was small, situated in a generic residential block in Heaven Luo City. It was comfortable, lived-in, and smelled of dinner—stir-fried vegetables and synthetic meat.
"Rank 7!" His father, Ye Ming, was beaming, holding the registration form like it was a winning lottery ticket. "Our Little Chen is a genius! Rank 7 is enough to become a Grandmaster eventually!"
His mother, Li Xiu, was already fussing over the budget on her datapad. "We need to save for an academy. And a storage device. Oh, and maybe we can afford a basic Spirit Soul in a few years..."
Ye Chen ate his dinner quietly, nodding at the right times. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll work hard. I heard the academy has scholarship programs for work-study students."
"My sensible son," his mother sighed, ruffling his hair. "Why are you so grown up? You're six."
"I just watch the news," Ye Chen lied smoothly.
After dinner, Ye Chen excused himself to his room. It was a small space, dominated by a bed and a desk cluttered with old mechanical parts he had scavenged from the neighborhood—his attempt to understand this world's tech.
He locked the door.
"Come out," he whispered.
Silver light flashed. The sword materialized in his grip.
Under the LED light of his desk lamp, he examined it closely. The dull gray was gone. The blade now had a faint, cold luster, identical to the alloy of the testing pillar.
He needed to test the limits. He needed to know the Rules.
Ye Chen moved to the corner of the room where he kept a box of scrap metal. He pulled out a copper wire—soft, flexible, conductive.
He touched the blade to the copper.
He concentrated, trying to trigger that thirst he felt earlier.
Nothing.
The sword remained cold and indifferent. It felt... disgusted.
'Rejection,' Ye Chen noted. 'Copper is softer than the alloy it currently holds. It offers nothing to the structural integrity of the blade. So it refuses to drink.'
He rummaged through the box and found a shard of ceramic plating—shattered remains of a cheap heat-shield tile he found near a mechanic shop. It was brittle, but incredibly heat-resistant.
He touched the blade to the ceramic.
Pulse.
There it was. A faint tingle. Not as strong as the pillar, because the ceramic was brittle, but the sword sensed the Heat Resistance.
There was no hesitation, no need for guidance. The connection snapped open the moment the sword recognized a beneficial trait.
The blade didn't change color this time, but the texture seemed to become slightly more matte, less reflective. The thirst subsided quickly.
Ye Chen took a deep breath. 'Rule confirmed: It filters. It acts like a picky eater. It wants the hardness of the alloy, but the heat resistance of the ceramic. It's combining them automatically.'
He swung the sword through the air. It was still just a sword. It couldn't shoot fire. It couldn't summon lightning.
But Ye Chen looked at the kitchen knife he had snuck into his room—a standard stainless steel blade.
He held his Spirit Sword in his right hand and the kitchen knife in his left. He brought them together slowly.
Clink.
The kitchen knife chipped immediately upon contact. His Spirit Sword didn't even have a scratch.
"It works," he whispered to the empty room.
He sat back on his bed, the sword resting across his knees. His mind began to spin, the gears of a strategist finally finding traction.
In Soul Land 4, the most valuable profession was Blacksmithing. Blacksmiths forged metals, removing impurities to create Thousand-Refined, Spirit-Refined, and Heavenly-Refined metals. These metals were the core of Battle Armor.
Grandmaster Blacksmiths spent decades learning to hammer out impurities.
Ye Chen looked at his sword.
'My sword naturally rejects impurities. It only takes the best structure.'
If he went to the Blacksmithing association... if he touched the rare metals...
A cold, ruthless pragmatism washed over him. He wasn't going to be a hero. He wasn't going to save the world from the Abyss.
He was going to turn this sword into the heaviest, sharpest, most indestructible object in the galaxy. And to do that, he needed access to the best materials.
And who would eventually attract the best materials? Who would be hunting dragons and fighting gods?
Lan Xuanyu.
Ye Chen recalled the image of the boy with the Blue Silver Grass.
'Lan Xuanyu is going to be a magnet for trouble,' Ye Chen thought, dematerializing his sword. 'High-level Spirit Beasts will want to eat him. Evil Spirit Masters will want to kidnap him. He is going to be constantly surrounded by danger.'
'And danger usually has very high-quality loot.'
Ye Chen pulled up his blanket, staring at the ceiling.
'I'll go to the same academy. I'll sit in the back. I'll watch. And when he kills something with really hard bones... I'll be there to tap it with my sword.'
It was a solid plan. A safe plan.
Little did Ye Chen know, as he drifted off to sleep, that "safety" was the one thing the Origin Silver Sword would never truly allow him to have. A weapon that constantly sought to be stronger would inevitably drag its master toward the strongest conflicts.
But for now, the six-year-old schemer slept soundly, dreaming of rare metals.
Status:
Name: Ye Chen
Spirit Power: Rank 7
Sword Traits:
Basic Alloy Structure (Hardness/Durability)
Heat Resistance (Minor)